


Bird on the Wing

by spectralcreek



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mandalore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectralcreek/pseuds/spectralcreek
Summary: Fenn Rau helps Bo-Katan escape from Imperial custody after Gar Saxon takes control of Mandalore around 18 BBY. Lots of kissing ensues.





	Bird on the Wing

Fenn Rau took confident, measured steps through the cool blue light of the royal prison of Sundari. A Protector would not be out of place in the detention cells, particularly as a final check on prisoners before shipping out to Concord Dawn.

Unfortunately, Rau was also acutely aware that his current whereabouts were a danger to himself, his fellow Protectors, and his target.

Despite the risk, he trusted his squadron implicitly. From intel to slicing to alibis, the plan had been laid out with careful timing and detail. Controllable situations only extended so far, however, and Rau would deal with any contingencies himself. If worse came to worst, his leadership position might allow him to bluff his way through discovery or do what he could to save others.

Not to mention that the mission was personal.

Rau shifted the large bag he carried on his shoulder as he checked his bearings. The corridor was supposedly correct. The elegant geometry of the Mandalorian capital attempted to belie the function of the empty detention cells he passed.

The usual guards encouraged to patrol ever-so-slightly off the routine, not enough to rouse conscious suspicion, and some cleverly sliced security gave him a clear path to the middle of the holding block.

Inside the cell, in an unadorned dark jumpsuit, red hair bright amid the sterile space, paced Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.

When she pivoted back toward the transparisteel door, he saw her wrists clasped in binders, an elevated precaution. She had undoubtedly been plotting her next moves when he arrived. The calculating look on her face turned spiteful as she took in Rau’s armor.

“Protector,” she huffed.

Rau entered the acquired code and the door hissed open. No warnings, nothing amiss. Still, best not to linger.  He stepped into the small cell.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Bo-Katan gestured, voice coldly sarcastic.

He dropped his bag and cleared his throat as he removed his helmet.

“Rau!” It was something of a delight to watch Bo-Katan light up with recognition. For a moment, a soft smile spread across her face, her green eyes were bright, and a faint blush appeared on her pale, freckled cheeks.

But the sunburst of relief was short-lived. “If you’re here,” her face fell as she further processed his presence, spitting sour words at him, “you must have sworn allegiance to Saxon.”

Discussing complicated political decisions needed to wait for in a safer environment. “The Protectors,” he said, putting clear stress on the word, “serve the Throne.”

“Do you?” she asked, more an accusation than a question. “Even when a traitor sits on it?”

Fenn Rau let out a tense sigh. “We don’t have time for this right now.”

“Oh, don’t we?” Bo-Katan raised her bound wrists. “Looks like I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Don’t play daft.” He took one of her hands and brought them back to waist level, angling to the side. With his free hand, he drew his blaster, placed the muzzle to the middle energy coupler, and fired one shot. With a spark, the binder link released, and Bo-Katan pulled back on her freed hand. Her other hand remained in his.

She took a breath. “Rau…”

Before letting her continue, he reached down to the sack at his feet, and pulled out the armored vest of a Protector. “Put this on.”

Bo-Katan glanced at armor, then back to him. “Are you doing this for Mandalore or for me?”

Rau sighed again. “What difference does it make?”

“I’m not sure I want to be rescued by a traitor,” she replied, pulling him closer and searching his eyes.

He gazed back for a moment too long. “Can we do this once you’re free?”

She squared herself and set her jaw. There was no budging this Bo-Katan. “We do this now, or not at all.”

Rau let out an exasperated groan, shook the armor he was still grasping, and gave a light tug on her hand. “ _Yes_ , I’d do it even if I didn’t bloody love you, you impossible--”

Fenn Rau quickly forgot the rest of his sentence when Bo-Katan stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them. One hand braced against his armored chest, the other reached up behind his neck, pulling him into a hard kiss. He faintly noticed the clatter of armor as he moved to grasp her hip, kissing her back fiercely. Tilting his head and leaning down to her as she pushed up, he remembered how well they fit together. He breathed in sharply and, frustratingly, thoughts of more immediate concerns returned.

More of _that_ would have to wait until later, too. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed back. “Put on the damned _disguise_ , Bo-Katan.”

She sighed and shrugged off his grasp. She leaned down next to him, _close, so close_ , and picked up an armful of armor, dumping it on the cot by her side and turned her back to him.  

The cell wasn’t very large; a detention cell wouldn’t be. Rau was very aware of her proximity as she shifted around, but turned his attention to the door.

Leaving Bo-Katan in binders had been a mistake, which made the cover-up of her pending escape somewhat easier. He adjusted his blaster and aimed it near the door’s inner locking mechanism. A blaster shot might pass a cursory inspection as an electrical short from failed energy binders. A series of fortuitous events would have to be assumed on her behalf, but with no security footage, the door entry code wiped, and no evidence to point to release from the outside, the next assumption would be that she achieved her own escape. Bo-Katan’s skills were not to be underestimated.

A sharp inhale behind him brought his attentions back to her. She had turned back to face him, wincing with her arm pulled back, fastening the right side of her chest armor. “They got a lucky hit,” she explained with a grimace.

He was by her side in an instant, hand hovering close but not touching her shoulder blade and down her side, unsure of where the damage was, but wanting to soothe her. He read her, arm held away from her side, armor unfastened high around her ribs. He touched her side gingerly, and when she remained, he finished fastening her armor with gentle fingers, touching her as lightly as possible. He then softly clasped her elbow and eased her arm down.

Later, he would have to help her with some bacta. _Later_ …

She relaxed against him and looked down at the overall effect.  The armor remained ill-fitting, too loose in most places.

“I’m going to look like a twelve year-old boy,” observed Bo-Katan.

Fenn Rau took a step back and appraised the disguise. It was most definitely a young man’s cut of armor. The Protectors recruited the best, and sometimes when a youth showed exceptional promise, they could start young. The armor clearly hadn’t yet been fitted to her as a second skin, but masked some of her shape well enough. It wouldn’t fool a trained eye, but it was passable. “That’s the idea,” he said.

He leaned past her to pick up her new helmet, then kissed her forehead before slipping it over her red hair to complete the ensemble. He then took another glance around the cell, gathered up his bag, donned his own helmet, and gestured toward the exit.

 

* * *

 

Bo-Katan Kryze stood on a crowded transport making for the exosphere, surrounded by warriors. She felt an uneasy familiarity among this throng; the Protectors had been a constant background presence in her youth, but for several years now, would have proudly stood against her.  She had gotten quite accustomed to another group of warriors, bold and true to ideals. To be back among the Protectors felt much like finding an old article of clothing and being shocked that it still fit.

Similarly, she recognized the habitual return of the thrills and risks of being an outlaw. Her briefest moment of legitimate regency had hardly dimmed that feeling. She briefly wondered what it would be like if she wasn’t constantly scanning for threats, analyzing weak points, making plans and finding escape routes; it seemed boring, though she could hardly imagine a Mandalore that wouldn’t require the skills of a warrior. Fighting brought change, and change brought fighting. New days on Mandalore often looked much the same as old.

It was with this musing of familiarity that she stood next to Fenn Rau, who addressed the group.

“Protectors,” he began, removing his helmet. The Protectors followed suit. She surveyed the surrounding warriors for familiar faces as he continued. “You all know our new recruit.”

He glanced at her, gave a small smile, and she removed her helmet, as well.

In some faces, she saw knowing approval. They had clearly been in on the plan. In others, she registered looks of brief surprise, and watched them work through her presence on the ship. She couldn’t immediately detect any displeasure. In fact, whether toward herself directly, or toward the leadership of their commander, she couldn’t tell, but she was somewhat unprepared for the wave of loyalty she now faced.

The foremost line of Protectors stepped forward. “Welcome to the Protectors,” one said, then dropped to one knee and added, “milady.” Others followed suit, with murmurs of her name, honorifics, and some light supportive calls of “Recruit”.

She glanced over at Rau, who had such a warm look on his handsome freckled face that she couldn’t look away.

“Commander,” came a hail from the transport pilot, breaking the moment. “Governor Saxon’s frequency.”

Rau sighed, and she watched his expression turn serious. He turned and made toward the cockpit.  Bo-Katan slipped her helmet back on and followed, but remained out to the side of the doorway, well clear of being picked up in the holo transmission.

“Governor Saxon,” she head Rau address, “to what do we owe the honor?”

“Rau,” she heard Saxon reply. “I thought I should inform you that Bo-Katan Kryze has escaped from custody. Unless, of course, you already knew that?” Saxon’s voice was accusatory.

A brief pause, surely for a carefully prepared surprise reaction. “This is the first transmission we’ve received since we left for Concord Dawn.”

“Give me the slightest reason to suspect you’re disloyal…” was the trailing threat. Clearly the Protectors had formed a tenuous truce with the new Saxon leadership.

“Are you questioning the honor of the Protectors, Governor?” Rau asked sharply.

“Far be it from me,” drawled Saxon.

Bo-Katan smiled a little. Indeed, questioning Fenn Rau’s honor was an obvious misstep.

“If Clan Saxon’s resources aren’t sufficient for the task of keeping track of one prisoner, perhaps the Protectors should return to the capital,” added Rau.

Bo-Katan admired the line he walked. She wondered if Rau knew she was listening and suspected he did. By this point, he needed give her no further explanation of his true alliances and loyalties. She hoped that Saxon bought quite the opposite. Rau certainly sounded sincere, and she noted he’d carefully not told a single lie.

“You will return to Sundari immediately,” ordered Saxon, “and each Protector will be searched. If I find a shred of evidence linking the Protectors to this treason, every last one of you will be summarily executed.”

“I can assure you, Governor, that you will find nothing of the kind. We will return immediately. Transport out.” Bo-Katan heard the pound on the transmission end button and he appeared through the doorway a moment later.

“Rau...” she started, taking his arm.

He grabbed her arm in return and tugged her with him, pulling her into the relative privacy of the gun turret. He took off her helmet, and before she could begin speaking again, he cradled the back of her head and her shoulders, pushed her firmly against the bulkhead, and kissed her passionately.

Bo-Katan gasped as he moved against her, wrapping one arm around his back and her other around his neck, tugging down his cowl, burying her fingers in his hair. She’d been in far more comfortable positions with him than pressing against unyielding armor, but she welcomed his mouth, and his hands, and the warm, solid press of him. He kissed her thoroughly, and she was just as glad the wall was there to support her as she clung back to him, kissing him in return.

They eventually parted for air, and he rested his forehead against hers. After a moment, he gathered himself to speak. "I thought we'd have more time." His voice was rough with emotion.

Bo-Katan stroked the stubble on his cheek as he took another breath and continued. “There’s an unregistered shuttle in the hold. There’s a change of clothes,” he said, hand hovering over her ribs, “and bacta. It isn’t much, but it’ll get you to safety.”

She sighed. She’d have rather kept kissing him.

“I’m not sure I’m worth all this,” she gestured toward Mandalore and back into the transport, where she’d last seen the Protectors, risking Imperial treason for her.

He kissed her again, briefly. “I’m sure.”

They gazed at one another, and Bo-Katan sighed again. Futilely, she confided, “I want you to come with me.”

“You know I can’t.” Through her suit, she could feel his hand caress her hip, and she had never resented armor more than with those layers between them.

“I know. But I wanted you to know that I wanted you.”

The hand on her hip shifted, pulling her close, and she watched a fleeting wave of passion cross his features before ebbing back to tenderness. “Do you have somewhere safe to go?” he asked.

She had been considering options in her cell. “Some old allies. Some old hideouts from Deathwatch days.”

Rau grimaced. There had been a time when their interpretations of Mandalorian honor had put them at odds. She felt neither of their core beliefs had shifted, but over the past few years, they found themselves working together, and it felt good.  “Just be careful who you trust,” he gently warned.

“Don’t lecture me, Rau,” she said flatly.

Rau smiled and checked his chrono. “There’s about five minutes before the dead zone to get the shuttle off undetected.”

“What, you want to argue regrets until then?”

“No,” he said, as he gathered her face in his hands and kissed her, all too fleeting. He pulled back and looked at her with a soft, unguarded expression she had gotten to know in moments of intimacy.

“How am I supposed to go when you look at me like that?” She had known so many dark, heartbreaking things through her years: loss, anger, pain, war.  But getting to know… this. This was different. Letting herself feel heartbroken and whole at the same time.

“Go,” he urged her gently.

She had notions of what to expect from here. She was again a fugitive, again fighting outsiders on her homeworld. But it would would take time to learn and plan how to fight the new regime. She didn’t yet know how long that would take. “I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to remind you that you aren't bound to me,” she began and paused, taking in his incredulous look, running her hands across his chest and leaning in, “but… I don’t want to.”

She captured his lips again and thoroughly enjoyed his fervor. Fenn Rau’s kisses alternated between bursts of passion and soft brushes of his lips. The only dissatisfaction she felt was in having to stop.

“How could I ever want anyone else?” he mumbled against her lips, voice deep.

“You’ll wait?” She didn’t want to force commitments, their lives were complicated enough, but as she stood wrapped tightly in his embrace, she very much looked forward to the next such occasion.

“That I will.”

She brushed her fingers over his lips, memorizing his features. “Stay safe until we meet again?” It was an order, but it came out as a request.

He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll do my best, milady. May I say the same to you.”

“And I haven’t thanked you yet, have I?”

“A Protector needs no thanks for doing his duty,” he replied.

She kissed his lips softly once more, and placed her cheek to his, whispering against him. “Thank you. For this.”

“A man’s duty to the woman he loves,” he whispered back against her. He pulled back and looked at her one more time. “Now go.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about from listening to too much of Kevin McKidd's Speyside Sessions (if you're unfamiliar, Google that album and enjoy Fenn Rau singing Mando Folk Songs) and accidentally associating Bo-Katan with Bonnie Prince Charlie. The title is a line from the Skye Boat Song.


End file.
